


Bad Things, Good People

by Brevity (AmosLee1023)



Series: Detroit Oneshots [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, False Accusations, Paranoia, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmosLee1023/pseuds/Brevity
Summary: Daniel is a human and the circumstances around his sudden emotional distress is something a little more... distressing.





	Bad Things, Good People

**Author's Note:**

> Just some more oneshots while I get life back in order~ Aka, I have the cold after getting over the flu.

****Daniel filled the pot with water from the tap and set it on the stove top, where he grabbed the salt shaker from the counter to start salting it. “Always salt your pasta water like the sea”, is a saying that he was taught in culinary school when he was younger. So, he salted the water and stirred it until the crystals were dissolved, and then he set the burner to a high heat for the water to boil. Since it would take a moment for the water to take the heat, he stepped away from the stove and turned to the fridge, pulling open the door to get the tomatoes he had bought the night before.

“John, it's- it's blood, I'm telling you,” Daniel could hear Caroline say from their bedroom, just around the corner of the kitchen; having open arches on the bedrooms let almost nothing go unheard. Daniel furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the vine of tomatoes, craning his head slightly to the side to listen as he slowly shut the fridge door. Blood?

“...Show me again,” John's voice sounded. Daniel stepped away from the fridge and walked to the bedroom's archway, where he peered inside, the cold tomatoes precipitating in his hands. Inside of the bedroom, he could see Caroline holding a small pair of underwear, with small, meaningless flowers decorating the white cloth. She held them up, where a spot of light red coloring stained them. Had she started her period? It wasn't that odd for a ten year old to start menstruating.

“Do you think he's- he's been doing things to her?” Caroline asked, her face written of paranoid, accusatory worry. Paranoia wasn't uncommon in pregnant women, and Daniel had seen the positive pregnancy test in the bathroom waste basket. Why she hadn't told John yet, was a mystery to him. Emma was always excited about babies or tiny children.

Daniel blinked a few times in shock, staring at John and Caroline as they discussed him... _molesting_ their daughter. Why would they...? How could they even think that? What was going through Caroline's head? Daniel would never to _anything_ like that to _anyone_. He'd spent years in culinary school and taking classes of home economics just for this job- it was his job to feed and protect children, why would he-?

John smoothed his hair back and nodded, eyes closed while he processed what his wife was selling him so well with her panic-stricken face. Daniel breathed quickly, shaking his head lightly.

He would never. He would never risk his job, let alone rape or abuse a child- especially not Emma. He'd worked here for almost seven years, gotten to know this family- _become one of the family_. How could they even _dare_ to speculate such a thing? Behind his back? They could have... they could have even _confronted_ him. He could have told them “ _No_ , I have _never_ touched Emma like that.” Ever. The thought had never even crossed his mind to.

“Okay,” John said, “I'll... start looking for someone else.” It was the final nail in the coffin. They were going to replace Daniel. “Go down to the first floor and report him to the security,” the father added, scoffing and shaking his head at himself for not realizing what was going on before, but there was _nothing_ going on, _ever_.

Caroline stepped passed her husband and Daniel quickly turned back into the kitchen. He went back to the stove of hastily boiling water and picked up the bag of rigatoni pasta from the counter, dropping the tomatoes onto the surface top. His hands... shook. His legs felt like rubber. In his peripheral vision, he could see Caroline look at him briefly as she strolled through the apartment to the front door. He shut his eyes tightly.

He wasn't just going to get fired. He was going to be arrested. For something that Caroline made up in her stupid, paranoid, pregnant state of mind. She was always a frazzled person, but this? Why this? Why to _him_?

Daniel choked on the ball that welled in his throat. He opened his eyes again and took deep breaths into his panicked self, his heart beating faster than it did when he turned in his finals. He squeezed the pasta in his trembling hand when he heard Caroline leave the apartment room, shutting the door behind her. His vision began to lessen as his eyes teared up.

John came out of the bedroom, walking across the living room to sit on the couch, where he grabbed his tablet from the coffee table. Daniel blinked away his tears and bowed his head.

He wouldn't cry. Not for Caroline's delusioned state. He swallowed down his sorrow and poured the pasta into the pot, the dried noodles clacking against themselves. The sound seemed to make John look over, but then the man turned his attention back to replacing Daniel. The blonde didn't look at John. He put the lid over the pot, not bothering to turn down the heat, or to stir the noodles to prevent them from sticking. He put the empty pasta bag onto the counter and left the kitchen, to John and Caroline's bedroom.

One time to bond, John had gotten out his handgun and let Daniel admire it, because that was how most men related, through a shared sense of masculinity. Holding the heavy gun in his hands, Daniel felt awkward, and like he shouldn't be holding it. Now, the distressed man walked straight to his employers' closet and reached onto the top shelf, where he touched along until his fingers brushed the gun's case. He grabbed it.

Dropping down to his knees, he put the case on the floor and unsnapped the locks. He could feel his eyes burning again. It... made him angry. He never questioned anything that John or Caroline did; never questioned their techniques of raising Emma. He didn't question where John spent most of his money on Friday nights, or why Caroline was hiding her pregnancy, or why _they felt it so necessary to make Daniel raise Emma_. “Oh, Daniel, we'll be out for a bit, take care of Emma”, Caroline would say, but they would be out for eight hours, and Emma was left in Daniel's care. Every day, he washed her hair, fed her, picked out her clothes, took her to school, picked her up, played with her at the park, told her about boys-!

A hot tear slipped down Daniel's cheek as he stared down at the gun that he held in his hands. He had picked it up. Loaded it. Pulled back the hammer. All without realizing. He grit his teeth and wiped his cheek on his shoulder sleeve.

Bad things always happen to good people. That, was something that he always heard growing up. When his dog died. When his scholarship was declined. When his mom left him. He did _everything himself_.

Standing up from the floor, with the gun in his hands, he sniffed and looked down at the gun through irritated, hooded eyes. He felt like all of his emotions had just drifted away, and there was just an angry pit boiling the bottom of his heart. He looked up from his steady hands to the living room, where he could see John on his tablet.

Daniel headed to him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was really a work that a sibling of mine talked me into.


End file.
